


Hands

by SassyLassy



Category: Osomatsu-kun, おそ松さん | Osomatsu-san (Anime)
Genre: Kaoru originally came from Tensai Bakabon yet he doesnt show up in the manga or the animated series, M/M, he is a hard guy to tag and place since he also shows up in Kun but under a different name, i love my cop though if you know him know i appreciate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyLassy/pseuds/SassyLassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iyami thinks about Kaoru's hands. Surprisingly, not smut. Don't let that deter you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

Iyami had been on the receiving end of hands, and fists, a lot in his life. The earliest memory he had was a hand grabbing the back of his shirt, yanking him along while an angry voice rattled off. Those words, whatever they were, had been lost to the memory of time and had fallen through the sands of his mind long ago. But he could remember the hands, how they had grabbed and pulled, pushed, and pinched time and time again.

It wasn't that he'd had a miserable childhood, heavens no! Iyami had just always been the kind of child to cause trouble and be caught for it, then reprimanded and punished for it. His bottom had been the most spanked behind in all the school by the time he started junior high school. He was fairly sure there was some kind of parchment in his school declaring that... or if there wasn't, there should be some kind of commemoration of his poor punished behind in those school halls.

Though it came as no surprise to any who truly knew him that when he became a man his affair with abusive hands continued. Twisted from birth, that's what his mother had said, and maybe she had been right in her wise words for Iyami was everything that twisted entailed. The straightest thing about him was his mustache, and his back. And he was proud of that.

What he wasn't proud of was when he would be sporting a new bruise from some store vendor who caught him sneaking out from paying for a meal, or a black eye from an enraged customer who had bought one of his shoddy merchandise. Even if he was fit, and quick on his feet, Iyami couldn't avoid his punishments all the time. Sometimes, yes, especially if he had a scapegoat but most times he was by himself.

Hands continued to be a threat to him, and anytime somebody's hand would brush against his body the man would react by putting as much space between him and the offender as possible. Sometimes that included jumping straight into the air and somehow landing a good distance away, a look of disgust on his face. How dare they touch him with their filthy commoner hands, yes, but how dare they touch him and make him think they were about to grab him, and hit him.

But then Kaoru happened.

Iyami had watched movies about romance. Never paid, of course. Always sneaked in, or talked some poor loser for him to mooch off of them. He had watched people fall in love and sappy music play over their cheesy lines, and while a part of him found it quite appealing the other part of him found it disgusting. Enlightening, sure, like learning certain pick up lines to capture someones attention long enough to pay for his meal and slip away like a fox in the night.

He'd never really believed in it, the idea of love.

But then he had felt Kaoru's hands upon his body and he knew what love was. For this man, this solid, rough faced man had the kind of hands Iyami would normally instinctively shy away from. They were large, rough to the touch, had hair upon the knuckles and scars from a life of work. Hard working hands that were as different to Iyami's slender, manicured (as much as they could with his little to no income), soft hands that they may as well be fire and ice. The hands of a conman who had never really done a true days worth of work in his life.

These hands, Kaoru's hands, were made to work, and punish. Yet when the first time they had pressed against Iyami's bared flesh they had been soft, and gentle. The way he had trailed his fingertips along Iyami's warm skin, leaving trails of tingles and thrills in their wake the likes of which Iyami had never experienced before. He had squirmed, body shivering, face flushing and throat dry. Even going so far to worry his bottom lip but that did not last long before Kaoru's soft, warm lips were on his and he had learned fast hand what the phrase 'kissed breathless' truly meant.

It was a whirlwind, his mind, his body. It felt electric, it felt like burning, as well as burning cold all at once. The stimulation of those hands pressing against his hips, or when they would slide up and down his sides with purpose Iyami had to gasp and even give faint, breathless sounds of appreciation since even now he didn't know if he could say 'thank you', or communicate how wonderful it felt. Words were presently not his strongest suite, and this coming from a man who could talk his way into, and out of, many things.

And when their fingers would link together, good heavens and skies above. That was when Iyami was made all the more aware of how vastly different their hands were. Kaoru had huge hands. The kind of hands that could envelope both of Iyami's easily to keep them warm on a cool winter day. Well, Kaoru was always warm to touch, but when he would squeeze his fingers between his thick, solid fingers Iyami had never known such warmth before. Was it just the warmth of his body temperature, or something more?

He began to think of those hands more often than he thought of money and that was saying something. He would lay awake in his bed, alone, and think of how it would be if Kaoru was there with him. Would he be simply asleep? Or would he be gently trailing his fingers up and down his arm, such a soothing feeling to fall asleep to, surely Iyami would have had nothing but pleasant dreams that night. 

Or would he be playing with his hair? Catching his soft black locks between his fingers, gently guiding them behind his ear and his fingers would gently brush the shell of his ear while doing it too. Then they would glide down his slender neck to only just grip his shoulder. His other hand could work its way beneath him, wrapping itself around Iyami entirely to draw him closer so he could feel the warmth, and firmness, that was Kaoru's body.

He was just so tender. Tender to speak to, to touch, to be touched, and held. Despite being an officer of the law, the kind of guy who could pull out a gun and shoot some bad guy through the leg to incapacitate him, he was also the kind of guy who could turn around and talk about how his flowers were growing in his plant box at home. He was both hard, and soft, both at once and could be whatever Iyami wanted him to be.

When he was alone, he wanted him to be there. 

He wanted, and dreamed, of those hands and the warmth and love they offered him. Love the world had denied him for years, always held at bay, or held just out of reach of the man. As if it were taunting him, saying he wouldn't achieve such intimacy and know the warmth of a mans touch if he didn't fly straight and do what the world expected of him. And yet Kaoru was not what the world expected either, was he?

Kaoru wore whatever he wanted when not at work. He wore shirts, pants, shorts, dress shirts, dresses, skirts, stockings up past his thick, hairy knees, and cute hats you would expect to see on young women. Who dare defy him? He was the law. He could throw anyone's ass into the slammer if they so much as made a crude comment at him about his fashion or, worse, Iyami.

Having your honor genuinely defended was a new thing that had happened on more than one occasion also. He liked it.

He liked Kaoru.

He liked his hands.

...maybe even loved.

Those hands, he means. 

Clearly...


End file.
